Kane wondered if the slaves had lost or won with the retaking of Charleston.
Kane heard someone call out at the coach. The voice was shrill, panicked and desperate.
Frightened.
“Anderson,” he said. “Something’s wrong.”
“Ahead of you, Shepherd.” Anderson pounded on the wall and ordered him to stop. The coach had barely come to a halt before Kane was out and looking around for the distraught woman.
Tabitha stepped out beside him.
“Kane? What is it?”
The woman was closer now, her shrieks heard over the crowd. She pushed through, a younger black woman in hysterics. Anderson stepped out of the coach as the woman made her way up to them.
“Gen’ral,” she wept, her face wet with tears. “Gen’ral, he gone! My…my man. They took my man!”
Anderson called out to a group of ladies. They came forward and surrounded the weeping woman, talking to her gently as they tried to calm her. One of the them put her arms gently around the crying wife. She sobbed into the girl’s bosom, only able to say “They took my husband” over and over.
Kane stepped forward, nodding to the women as he approached. He leaned down slightly, trying not to intimidate the wife with his height.
“Ma’am?” The woman opened her eyes, looking up at him, not wanting to let go of her caretaker. Her look was distrusting, guarded.
Afraid.
Kane cleared his throat.
“Ma’am, I want to help you. When was the last time you saw your husband?”
She spoke, her voice small.
“Yesterday,” she said. “He lef’ late yesterday. Afta’ dinner. Said he was gon’ head to the marsh and do some crabbin’. Was gonna have c…crab wit’ our breakfast in the mornin’.”
“Does he usually come home late?”
“Afta’ I go to bed,” she said. She took a deep breath as she pulled away from the other woman and stood. “I hear him come in, then he leave again. Say he hear somethin’ outside. I drifted off. Woke up, and he gone.”
A shorter, stocky black man emerged from the crowd. He glowered at Kane as he spoke.
“Ben wasn’t the only one to disappear,” the man said. He turned his glare to Anderson. “Nine went missin’. Nine! General Anderson, you supposed to protect us! And now we got men goin’ missin’ every other week!”
Kane stood to full height, looking down at the man as he spoke. He knew the type. The man would start a problem, get the crowd riled up. Things could go bad from there.
“We’ll find them,” he said. “But we need everyone to stay calm.”
The man narrowed his eyes at Kane, stepped up to him, his chest puffed out.
“What the hell is a white man from the North care about a bunch of missing negroes here in the South?”
Kane glared back at him, clenched his fist. Negroes. He hated that word. He kept his voice even as he spoke.
“Unless you started bleeding a different color, grew fins, and learned how to live under water, the only difference between me and you is what we look like. Now back up.”
The man looked as if Kane had slapped him across the face. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and stepped back. Anderson stepped forward and addressed the crowd.
“This is Kane Shepherd. He’s one of us. Part of our fight. We protect him and his woman, Tabitha, as we protect our own.” She looked at the crying woman. “Hephzibah, we will find Ben. Please go home and rest.”
Kane sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
“Coming here may have been a mistake. Christ.”
Tabitha plopped down in the chair next to his.
“I think it’s beautiful,” she said, her tone bright. She slapped the arm on the chair rapidly as she turned to Kane. “Oh! Farnsworth said the food here is amazing! Have you ever had an omelet with shrimp in it?”
Anderson spoke as she sat down on the sofa across from them.
“How else would you eat an omelet?”
Kane looked up at Anderson. The woman was smiling slightly as she regarded Tabitha.
After the incident on Market St., Anderson had the coaches take them to a house on the edge of the city. The home sat on the undamaged part of the Battery, looking out over the bay. The water separated the Battery from the ruins of a fort on the other side of the bay, the remaining walls crumbling as grass and trees grew tall around shattered cannons and broken barricades. The smell of saline in the air as the sounds of the waves hitting the stone wall mixed with the cries of the seagulls that flew over the water to land on the long pier that stretched out over the water from the walkway.
The house was large, the exterior concrete and cold. A far cry from the interior, the floors and walls a rich, dark wood polished to a mirror finish. Portraits of several Confederate Generals hung, their expressions dour as they glared out from the photographs. Photos of black Confederate troops also hung here and there, a reminder that the white men of the South had dragged the blacks into a conflict that would cost lives and, ultimately, do nothing to ensure their freedom from being property. The South had won the war. Slavery was still legal, and the secession had been completed. The slaves had taken the fight into their own hands, took their freedom from the slavers. Now they lived in poverty and constant conflict.
Anderson had shown them to the parlor, a large sitting room with a massive fireplace on the far wall. The furniture was lush, velvet-covered chairs and a sofa that sat near the fireplace, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. She’d closed the double-doors once they were in. Private meeting.
Always fun.
“I never said your welcome here would be warm,” she said to Kane as she sat down on the sofa across from them. She crossed her legs, rested her hands on her knees as she sat up straight and tall. “There’s a lot of good reason to distrust a white man from the North down here.”
“I’m not saying I blame them,” Kane said, looking at her. “I’m saying that our being here is going to bring bigger problems.”
“We’ve got people disappearing left and right, and now the Special Forces are all over the place looking for you two. How much bigger can it get?”
“Fair point. What leads do you have on the disappearances?”
Anderson shook her head.
“Nothing. All we know is that it happens at night, and there’s no trace in the morning. No signs of struggle or forced entry, nothing. Usually one or two every week or so.”
Kane nodded, his thoughts going back to the other night when Wil had appeared to him and Tabitha at their makeshift camp. As odd as she was, he didn’t get the sense from her that she was up to anything sinister. In fact, she’d almost invited him to come to her for information. If anything, she knew more than she was letting on.
“Have you ever spoken to Wilhelmina?” he asked.
Anderson shook her head.
“No. She’s been spotted a few times roaming the marsh at James Island and the woods around this area. She vanishes as soon as you go after her or call out.”
“It may not be her at all,” Tabitha chimed in. “She can Astral Project.”
Anderson raised an eyebrow.
“What is that?”
“It’s a neat trick,” Tabitha said, sitting upright as she crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knee. She spoke as if she was telling her most wonderfully exciting secret. “It’s the ability to be in two places at once! You think you’re talking to a person, then poof! Astral Projection! She’s far better at it than I am. I can make myself appear, but she can actually carry on conversations and move around. She even cast a spell and got our campfire going!”
Kane shook his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t look suspicious at all.”
Anderson crossed her arms in front of her.
“I didn’t bring you two here for no reason,” she said, eyeing Kane. “I sent word to Jones about the disappearances a few months ago. He sent word back that he’d work to get you down here to help us. Said yo
u were smarter than you look.”
Kane chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds like Jonesy.”
“Wilhelmina may also be part of it, as well as this…’Shadow Man’ you told me about. Will you help us?”
Kane sat back in his chair.
“Don’t have much choice, do I?” he said. “Not with the Special Forces out there looking for us.”
“That’s another thing,” said Anderson, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward. “They’ve gone off the map. None of our scouts have reported any sign of them. No battle cruisers, nothing. Normally, we’d be prepping Charleston for a direct raid since it’s fairly obvious where we are. But they’ve gone quiet.”
An uneasiness fell over Kane. He had to agree. The Special Forces had enough firepower to level Charleston. Why pull their punches? Something was off.
A knock sounded at the double doors. Anderson called to the person on the other side to enter. Kane turned and saw the young man from earlier, Tony, step in. He stood rigid, still dressed in his Revolution fatigues, and saluted Anderson before speaking.
“You have a visitor, General Ma’am.”
Anderson stood, as did Kane and Tabitha. The hairs on the back of Kane’s neck stood on end, a cold breeze moving through the room. Biting, chilled.
Unnatural.
Kane felt his entire body tense as Tony stepped aside and allowed a familiar, older man in an expensive black suit into the room. It was the last person Kane wanted to see. The man who tried to kill Tabitha, forced Kane to coerce a false confession out of her.
Harbored a secret that made him both a hypocrite and dangerous.
NCPD Commissioner William Gentry smiled as he leveled his serpentine stare at Kane and Tabitha.
Kane started toward him, every muscle in his body tense, but Tony stepped in front of Gentry as Anderson moved in front of Kane. Kane shouted at Gentry.
“I’ll tear you apart, you bastard!”
“Stop, Shepherd!” She put her arms out to either side, blocking him. Tabitha was by Kane’s side, clutching his shirt.
“Kane, no,” she said. “Not here!”
Kane kept his glare on Gentry as he spoke to Anderson.
“Get the hell out of my way!”
“Now, now, Mr. Shepherd,” said Gentry. “I’m here in the name of Diplomacy. Is there any reason why we can’t be civil?”
“I can think of one in particular,” Kane said, the image of Jones falling over dead flashing in his mind. He could still feel the spatter of Jones’s blood and brain matter on his face.
“Kane,” Tabitha said in a low voice. “Not here, Kane.”
“She’s right, Shepherd,” said Anderson. “He’s likely not alone.”
“I’m not, I assure you, General,” said Gentry, smiling as he stepped around Tony. “Please, Mr. Shepherd, do lower your guard and listen to that lovely young woman. I have simply come to talk, and do not wish to level this house. Or the entire city, for that matter. I do believe you have enough problems here as it is.”
Kane forced himself to relax a little, not taking his eyes off Gentry. It made him sick to admit that Gentry was right. Kane didn’t doubt that Tabitha could get them out of the city before things went South, but he didn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of an entire population of people, either.
“Good,” said Gentry. He motioned to the couch. “Shall we sit?”
Anderson turned to him. Kane could hear the fire in her tone as she spoke, even and smoldering.
“You may have us out-manned, outgunned,” she said. “But you’ll still die if you try anything. We will go down in flames if it means we can take you and most of your men here with us.”
Gentry nodded.
“Fair. I ask for a temporary truce while we discuss the future of our occupation of the Confederate City of Charleston.”
“Occupation?”
Gentry smiled, gesturing to the couch again.
“Please.”
Anderson nodded to Tony, who closed and stood guard. Gentry nodded to him and moved to the sofa. Kane and Tabitha moved out of the way as Anderson took a seat, Kane standing behind her, his Hellfire spell on the tip of his tongue.
“If you try anything, I won’t hesitate,” he said to Gentry. “We’ll see if I get away with it.”
Gentry nodded.
“I can assure you that my visit is purely diplomatic.”
“Then talk,” Anderson said, icily. “Let’s be ‘diplomatic’.”
“Let’s start with what the hell you’re doing down here, Gentry,” said Kane. “You’re the police commissioner, not the military.”
Gentry smiled.
“Gladly. The Special Forces division of the Northern Union is working in tandem with the New Chicago Police Department to hunt down two fugitive Magicians who not only attempted to assassinate the President of the Northern Union, but also managed to destroy an entire shipyard and a small fleet of ships during their escape. As it turns out, they were assisted by this…quaint Revolution.”
“So, of course, you got put in charge.” Kane huffed. “Figures.”
“And that is to mean precisely what?”
Kane clenched his fists.
“I know what you are, you son of a bitch. And so does the Revolution. I’ve told everyone. It’s not a secret anymore, so you can stop pretending you’re so fucking holier than thou.”
Gentry smiled.
“Did you really think I revealed myself on accident, Mr. Shepherd?”
“I’m sure newsies up North might get a kick out of the fact that the man the city trusted to protect them from the dangers of Magicians turned out to be a Magician, himself.”
Gentry laughed.
“Very good, Mr. Shepherd,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Very good, indeed! May I ask a question?” He leaned forward as if telling an important, well-kept secret. “What in God’s name makes you think I haven’t eyes and ears in the news media all over New Chicago? What makes you think that they would allow such a horrendous folly of lies to get printed and sent out?”
Damn. It made sense that Gentry had sway over some key figures in the news media. That the wealthy men running things had paid the right people in the press. Kane couldn’t say that he was surprised, but it didn’t make it any less infuriating.
Gentry sat back casually.
“I have but one way to make sure that you and Miss Drake remain out of harm’s way, and that the people of the Confederate States of America remain safe from…well, we’ll just call it ‘disciplinary action’ on the part of the Northern Union.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you cared,” Kane said, not holding back the sarcasm.
“Oh, but I do, Mr. Shepherd,” Gentry said. “Your well-being is of the utmost importance at the moment. That’s why I’ve come up with a way to ensure that you are able to live out the remainder of your days.” He gave a sly grin at the last sentence.
Kane snorted.
“This should be rich.”
“Oh, I assure you, it’s quite a tall order. But I think you will find it worth your while.” Gentry put his hands up, touching the tips of his fingers together as he spoke. “You two are to remain here in Charleston. You are exiled. Any attempts to return to New Chicago, for any reason, will result in military action against the city of Charleston, South Carolina. And her allies.”
“They’re welcome here,” said Anderson.
“I’m not finished, dear General.” Gentry grinned at her. “I do respect your rank, General Anderson, but I fear you will not hold it for long. The Revolution is to disband, effective immediately. All revolutionary campaigns, missions, and assignments are to be called, and all ships grounded.”
“So bow down and fall in line,” Anderson said, fuming. “That’s it? That’s what we’re supposed to do?”
Gentry’s face brightened as if he were a teacher whose student finally understood the lesson.
“Yes. Quite.”
Something was off. Way off. Kane let loose his
hearing, reached out beyond the walls. A barrage of sounds hit him at once, and dialed back enough to where he could hear Anderson speaking to Gentry.
Armor. Guns being handled, readied. Someone shouting demands. Line up and keep quiet. Turbines. Anderson’s voice faded as Kane reached further. All hands steady. Keep cannons pointed at the house. On your knees.
Jesus.
He reeled back in as Anderson was finishing her blow-up.
“…the hell you are, you don’t come down here to my house and—”
Kane cut her off, speaking over her.
“Anderson, quiet.”
She shot out of her chair, rounded on Kane, her face inches from his, her eyes wide with fury.
“What the hell did you just say to me?!”
Kane stood his ground, locked his eyes on hers, his stare just as hard. He kept his voice steady.
“I said quiet, Regina. It means ‘shut the hell up, you might get us all killed’.”
Anderson’s face faltered. She backed away from Kane and turned to Gentry, who laughed and clapped his hands as he gathered himself and stood.
“Ah, your hearing ability! Marvelous!” He pulled something from his pocket, kept his hand closed around it. Kane didn’t need to see it to know what it was.
Amulet.
Shit.
“I would listen to him, General Anderson,” Gentry said as he straightened his tie. “Kane is quite perceptive. See me to the door?” He walked past them, headed toward the double doors. Tony’s jaw was set as if he were ready to strike, to stop him. Kane shook his head. Don’t.
Gaslit Armageddon (Clockworks of War Book 2) Page 6